


Unburden

by HaneleHaralue



Category: Better Luck Tomorrow (2002), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, F/M, Happy Endings Please, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaneleHaralue/pseuds/HaneleHaralue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone touched her family, they would die by her hand. Screaming.</p>
<p>(In which Gisele lives, and Hobbs has an interesting job proposal for her.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leave

**_"Deixa, deixa, deixa, eu dizer o que penso dessa vida, preciso demais desabafar..."_ **

* * *

 

When she wakes in the hospital and neither Han nor Mia is there, her gut feeling tells her something is wrong. Then Luke Hobbs walks through the door, and she knows her feeling was right.

Gisele doesn’t ask him where she is. Or why. Or when. Or how. She almost dies enough to stop wondering about why she’s still alive. Waking up and knowing she’s still alive is all that matters. At least she’s not a smear on the tarmac like she thought she would’ve been when she made the decision to trade Han’s warm, strong hands for the cool, unforgiving shape of her gun. Thinking of Han reminds her of what she really needs to ask.

“Are they okay?”

Hobbs isn’t an idiot, so she doesn’t need to spell out exactly who she means. She expects him to cut to the chase as he stands over her, straight backed and tall, screaming military from every pore of his body. Instead of doing so, he takes a seat next to her bed and remains stone silent.

That makes her more uneasy than him showing up in her room had.

She cocks her head at him, slanting her brows the slightest as the corners of her lips tug down. He’s not answering her. All he’s doing is sitting there, staring straight back at her, leaned forward with elbows on knees and chin rested on threaded fingers. If she doesn’t get answers soon, she will start throwing punches. He’ll fend her off with ease, but it might get across to him that she wants her answers. Now.

It never comes to that. Hobbs eventually breaks the silence.

“Yes. All of them are enjoying their full pardons. The Torettos and the O’Connors have relocated to Los Angeles. Ortiz is with them.”

She blinked, before a small smile tugged her lips up. It seemed that the infamous Toretto/O’Connor luck had pulled through yet again. Mia and baby Jack were safe and had finally returned to her family’s old home. There were conversations she’d have with the other woman that would turn to talk of Mia’s childhood and the house she’d grown up in. The genuine longing in Mia’s voice made her ache for her friend. If her friend’s exile has finally been broken, and she can raise her own son in the same house as she was raised in, she couldn’t be happier for her.

Still.

“And the others?” she pushed, though her even tone didn’t betray her impatience when Hobbs didn’t continue.

“Seoul-Oh is setting up shop in Tokyo, Pearce is on some beach in Bali, and Parker is re-establishing his garage in Miami.”

Her faked disinterest crumbled. Han was in Tokyo? That didn’t make sense. Their plan was to go together. She understood why Mia couldn’t be at her side. The woman had her family, her son, to look after. But Han? Gisele knows Han, trusts Han. She expected him to be there, always at her side. It was already strange to have Hobbs instead of Han sitting in the chair beside her hospital bed. For Han to be in Tokyo without her, it’s just wrong. He wouldn’t leave her unless-

“They think I am dead.”

Hobbs waited a beat, then two before he confirmed her statement with a solemn nod. It took a long couple minutes of regulating her breathing with many a quietly drawn out “ _hee_ -hoo” through her mouth to keep from doing something rash.This must be his fault somehow. She’s not dead, and yet somehow she’s not alive either. At least, not to the people who matter. The glare she leveled at the man sitting in the chair beside her demands answers. Like why in the hell she is laying in this damned hospital when her team - when Han - didn’t know she was here - alive?

“Explain.”

With a sigh, Hobbs held out the large yellow envelope he’d been holding when he’d come in. “For the record, this wasn’t my idea.”

After a moment, she broke eye contact and focused on the envelope. She eyed it, taking note of the DSS seal emblazoned on it, before taking it from his hand and swiftly opening it and pulling out its contents to peruse. Gisele was forced to pause as she looked at the photo of a blond woman she recognized as one of Shaw’s team. There was another picture of a bald, grim faced man. His name halted her move to turn the page. Shaw. Ian Shaw.

Disturbed, she continued through the rest of the folder where there were a couple more files. One of them even had contents on Braga. When she reached the end, she found a file for herself. Parts of it had been circled. Mossad. Burned. Braga. Liaison. Rio. Pardon. Deceased.

_Potential Asset._

Her eyes flicked back to Hobbs, hoping that they expressed how unimpressed she was by this.

“I helped you once for Dom,” she said flatly, “What could you possibly say to tempt me away from enjoying my hard won freedom?”  _With Han._

“What if,” he started after a tense bout of silence, staring straight into her eyes, “I told you that Ian Shaw plans to not only pick up where his brother left off, but to hunt down and kill anyone responsible for his brother’s death? What if I told you all attempts the DSS has made to even get close to him have failed? We need someone who knows how he works, someone he won’t see coming, to take him down before he can follow through with his plans.”

Once upon a time, Gisele was Mossad. Once upon a time, Gisele worked for Braga. Living with danger as a constant companion, her life always on the line, she thought she knew herself. Nothing mattered except for being alive, being free, never looking back. Having a team held you down. But that was before Dom, before Mia, before baby Jack, before Han. Team meant something different now. Team meant family.

If anyone touched her family, they would die by her hand. Screaming.

“And I suppose I must stay dead to accomplish this task?”

“Shaw thinks you’re dead. Better you stay that way.” A feral grin overtook Hobbs’ features. “After all, no one expects a ghost to hunt them.”

She looked back down at the files in her lap. Gisele still wanted freedom, and family, and Han. But it would have to wait. She had one last job to do.


	2. Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fuentes." The agent offered her hand.
> 
> Harabo took it.
> 
> This would be the start of a beautiful partnership.

Today was different.

A meeting had been scheduled and she, Monica Fuentes, had been asked to be in attendance. Meetings weren't always special, but this one really was, considering whom it was Customs was meeting with. It had been almost a year (eleven months, one week, six days) since the DSS had last worked with Customs. Customs chasing what was left of Braga's cartel, the DSS sniffing for any signs of international criminals on their wanted list. Their partnership had been cut short the night Monica herself had dropped a folder of intel concerning Owen Shaw and one not-so-deceased Leticia Ortiz onto the desk of Federal Agent Hobbs.

The man had had the gall to brush it off at first with a "not interested." Like the intel she had busted ass for was useless. She'd done her homework on him though. Nothing got "The Cowboy" so fired up like something related to the infamous Toretto crew, who had pulled off the biggest heist in history. Hell, even his reasons for proposing joint missions between their agencies was because Braga's outfit was his best, and only, lead to get back on the case.

Forcing him to look at a picture of Ortiz had finally gotten him to acknowledge everything she had managed to find on the new problem in their sandbox: Owen Shaw.

Just when she thought she'd gotten something over Hobbs, the DSS packed up and left before she could hold it over his head.

That was… frustrating. Not even a thank you. Really.

But for some reason, she couldn't stay mad, because next thing she knew, she was getting all of the infrequent-but-crucial updates on the hunt for Shaw dropped on her desk. The only person who could've authorized keeping her in the loop was Hobbs himself. It wasn't a thank you, but it was an acknowledgement of her involvement. And now, a year later, the updates having ended with Shaw's termination, she could only guess at what Hobbs and the DSS wanted with her now.

Monica was well aware of the fact that the reason she was brought on for most ops and consultations was less for what she did with her brain and more for what she did with it in tandem with her body. And it certainly wasn't because of how efficiently she could take down a mark or track down leads no one else could. Maybe in the beginning, she resented the men she worked with who always saw her tits and ass before they saw her worth as an agent. She'd come to learn that being angry about it all the time didn't change their minds. Beating them at their game did.

She was smart and she was sexy, and she knew how to use it. The woman let those men leer at her, put their hands on her. Let them _whisper mami, chica, baby gurl_ , in her ear as if she actually wanted to hear it.

And then she let them whisper some more incriminating things into her ear (and the wire she usually had tucked between her breasts) and cheerfully waved them a goodbye as they were dragged to prison, swearing less than sweet nothings at her.

If Hobbs wanted her in on this meeting, it probably meant that he was back on Toretto's case and needed someone to infiltrate his group. She'd need to inform him that she would get nowhere with Toretto's crew. With O'Connor, Pearce, and Parker in his ranks, her cover would be blown sky high the minute she even breathed in their direction.

Of course, she wouldn't put it that way. Absolutely not, she thought to herself as she pulled up at the address the DSS had forwarded her as the place she would be meeting Hobbs at. She needed a more delicate, professional way of saying it. That was what she was all about. Being more professional, more efficient than the men. Hobbs was not allowed to be the exception to the rule. Sure, he had a tendency to ruffle her feathers, but that was kind of his effect on everyone. She looked up at the suspicious warehouse this meeting was supposed to be held at, took a moment to roll her eyes, and then composed herself.

Professional. She was a professional. Monica walked into the warehouse, donning a smirk and letting her hips swish in casual lazy eight patterns.

Almost all of that calculated bravura went to shit the moment she clapped eyes on a tall figure leaning against wall. Monica had been ready for Hobbs. After all of the work she'd put into the month leading up to this meeting, re-reading the Shaw and Braga files so she would be ready for whatever he would throw at her.

Looking at the unexpected guest at their party, she could say, unequivocally, that she was not ready for this.

There was the slightest hitch in her steps made that much more noticeable because she was in heels in an annoyingly echo-friendly building. Hobbs didn't even look up from where he was hunched over a table reading something. It was beyond hoping that the other occupant of the room hadn't caught her little stumble. Their eyes hadn't left her since she spotted her, tracking her movements like a snake waiting to strike.

"Hobbs," Monica almost stuttered, her voice harsh.

Internally, she scolded herself for not using her usual smoother, sultry tones.

"Fuentes," he greeted back, without looking up.

"Hobbs," she repeated, practically barked.

The man had the gall to lift one large, muscled arm and uncurl his index finger at her in dismissal. That was it. She marched, her heels clicking furiously as she went, straight up to him and slammed her hands on the table. Slowly, he looked up, right into her face.

"What exactly are _we_ here for?" Monica sent a very meaningful glance at their company.

At the woman who had once been Braga's right hand. At the woman whose face she knew very well after the Rio case both she and Hobbs had picked over. At the woman who, as far as the details of the Shaw case was concerned, had been killed in the final altercation with the terrorist.

"Fuentes," Hobbs said evenly, "I'm sure you know of Gisele Harabo, alias Gisele Yashar, an ex-associate of Arturo Braga and later Dominic Toretto."

"Of course I know who she is, now tell me what I don't know."

So he did. The name Ian Shaw wasn't all that unfamiliar to her, but the fact that he'd disappeared across the pond and started mucking around along the U.S. border is news to her. News that she wished she'd actually been up on, because the brother of a big time associate of Braga's was bound to become her problem. Especially if he was planning on doing the imprisoned drug lord's dirty work in her sandbox.

Now she was expected to work with a consultant, a woman who had previously been thought to be dead, to pull together a crew and go hunt down Shaw 2.0.

Hobbs disappeared not long after explaining the situation, handing her a nifty DSS folder outlining her marching orders on his way out. She allowed herself a minute to stare at the ceiling, pinch the bridge of her nose, and let out an aggrieved sigh, before reigning herself in and approaching Harabo, who had been silent and unmoving the entire time. The woman was still watching her, and if she was blinking, Monica couldn't tell. The customs agent looked her up and down. Statuesque would be the first word she'd think of, and skinny the second. She looked more a model than ex-Mossad or a professional criminal. Then again, Monica herself was very unlikely to be pegged at being a customs agent.

"I don't really care who you are or what your story is, all I care about is that you have the skills to help me take that son of a bitch down." Eyeing the taller woman, she finally cracked a smile. "Though, if we're in agreement that Agent Hobbs is bastard, then I think we just may get along."

The smirk that quirked the other woman's lips had Monica smiling a little wider.

"Fuentes." The agent offered her hand.

Harabo took it.

This would be the start of a beautiful partnership.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm totally ignoring that at that speed, Gisele falling should have left her a smear. Ah, the beauty of fanfic, right? 
> 
> Anyway, this is my first ever TF&TF fic as well as my first fic on AO3. Not necessarily my first fic ever, I exist on FFnet under another penname. Whatevs. This is my attempt to write a happy Gisele/Han fic because I am overly invested in this pairing as well as with the fandom. Let's hope I actually do a decent job because writing Gisele is HARD.
> 
> The lyrics used at the beginning are from the song "Desabafo / Deixa Eu Dizer" by Marcelo D2 and Claudia. If anyone realizes the significance of the song, I'll be so happy.


End file.
